


we send starships

by mellyflori



Series: we send starships [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, OT3, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyflori/pseuds/mellyflori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something jolts down Athos’ spine and he can feel the last of it sparking along his fingers and toes. Porthos’ eyes. He knows those eyes.  He’s never seen them before in his life, never even dreamed of them, he’s sure of it, but he knows them as sure as he knows his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we send starships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



> Months ago Amie posted a prompt about an AU in which soulmates are together in multiple lifetimes and when they first touch in each new lifetime all the memories of the previous lifetimes come flooding back. I made a few tweaks to make it fit my OT3 needs. Incredible thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, to Amistosa who kicked this thing into high-gear for me and made it happen, and to everyone else who keeps sending me gorgeous ideas for the other lifetimes.
> 
> This is for the sweetest grumpycathos on her birthday. May the day be everything you deserve, and that's saying something because you deserve the very best.

_The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small._  
 _The lure of it is immense._  
 _We send starships.  We fall in love._  
 _\- Jeanette Winterson_

_****_

It speaks volumes that being woken sometime after three in the morning on a Tuesday to deal with the fallout of Louis being an ass again doesn’t even make Athos’ list of Top Ten Shittiest Things About This Week.

Ostensibly Athos is Louis’ Head of Corporate Security. When he took the job, Athos thought that being in a position like that at a major recording label would be mostly worrying about how to get pampered rock stars in and out of the building and making sure no one broke into the studios to take the demo tracks. It should have tipped him off that Security is part of the Public Affairs division. It should have tipped him off that no one let him meet Louis until after he accepted the position. There were several points at which Athos might have discovered that the actual job description was making sure the head of the studio stayed out of trouble, but each of those points was cleverly masked by Louis’ Chief Operations Officer.

They’d even somehow managed to keep Louis under control for the first few weeks Athos was on the job, long enough to lull him into a false sense of security. Then all hell broke loose. As a major music producer, Louis knows the ramifications of bad press on someone’s future. He also somehow thinks that doesn’t apply to him.

Which is why, at 3:17 am, when the phone rings to summon Athos to yet another crisis, he barely grumbles. He’s not pleased, he’s not even used to it, he just knows better than to waste energy he’s going to need later to keep from wringing Louis’ neck.

The poor sap who’d gotten stuck with bodyguard duty for the night explains the situation as quickly as he can. Louis was on his way out of his current favorite club when some police officers caught his eye. He made some incredibly inappropriate comments and when the police objected, Louis just got worse. It might have gone completely under the radar, but someone recognized Louis. Someone with a phone.

Athos fires up his laptop and a quick search yields a video of Louis pointing to the two mounted police officers and screaming, “Horses! And horses' asses!” Athos groans and drops his head into his hands. Fucking phones. He can hear the deep voice of one of the officers saying, “Come again?” At which point Louis, who has apparently left his brain in his other pants, repeats himself. Loudly.

There’s an exchange where Louis’ bodyguards try to hustle him down the sidewalk while the officers remind Louis that he needs to watch his mouth and Louis just gets louder and louder, then the video cuts off. “Okay,” Athos says, to no one in particular. “We can handle this."

 

Athos spends the rest of the night and most of the morning on the phone with the bodyguard, Louis, and his contact at the police department.

“Athos, we’ve had this conversation before, and you know that I’ll help when I can because your boss isn’t a bad guy, he’s just an ass. But in this case he mouthed off to my guys. I can’t have him mouthing off to my guys and getting away with it. It makes us look bad, and it makes him look like an even bigger ass. If that’s possible.”

Athos nods. “Yeah, I know.” Tréville is a good guy, and he’s helped them out in the past, but this is out of his league. “Can we perhaps work out a photo op where Louis takes the guys to lunch as an apology? A statement of respect to one of the reporters, perhaps?"

“I’ll check, but that should be okay with them."

It is okay with them. Athos makes arrangements at a restaurant that’s nice but not too nice and goes up to Louis’ office to get him by his metaphorical balls and explain it as nicely as he can. Louis has no idea what he’s done wrong, even after seeing the video, even after seeing all the headlines saying that the head of Paris Records thinks the cops are horses’ asses.

“Well, of course I was _joking_. Can’t they see that?"

“I suspect not, Sir, no."

Still confused about why this is an issue at all, Louis agrees to the lunch and the photo op. He even agrees to do his best to parrot Athos’ prepared remarks about Louis deep, abiding, and everlasting respect for the men and women of law enforcement. “Why ever wouldn’t I think that?"

“I’m sure I have no idea,” Athos deadpans.

 

When the lunch appointment rolls around, Athos says he’s coming along. Louis isn’t to be trusted alone in circumstances like this. He’s not a bad man, he’s a genius at what he does, but he has a tendency to idiocy when allowed to speak for himself. They’re sitting together in the restaurant when the police officers come in. One is a stocky, incredibly blond man with ruddy cheeks and hair so long that it surely skirts the edges of some regulation. The other stops Athos’ breath in his chest.

The second officer is taller than Athos by an inch or two, bright eyes and dark skin and the most amazing dimples. He shakes hands with Louis and smiles, and the dimples flash in his cheeks and Athos realizes he hasn’t heard a word in the last two minutes. Fuck, who knows what Louis said while he wasn’t paying attention.

Shaking his head, Athos comes back to the conversation, in time to hear the tail end of the second officer introducing himself.

“- can call me Porthos.”

“Porthos. I like that. It sounds very dashing!” Louis says, and because Athos can’t keep his eyes off Porthos he sees those dimples again. Both of the officers are in their uniforms and Athos' mouth goes dry. They’re in tight riding pants and tall black boots polished to a high shine.

This is so inconvenient, Athos knows that. He needs to be paying attention to Louis and to smoothing over the events of the day before, not fantasizing about this stranger fucking him without even taking his boots off.

For the rest of the lunch, Athos does his best to be looking anywhere else, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Porthos for more than a minute. He’s watching Porthos’ fingers on his fork, his hand around his glass, the movement of his throat as he swallows. Athos is watching everything. Even so, he somehow makes it almost the length of the meal without meeting Porthos’ eyes.

When he does, it’s like he’s been shocked. Something jolts down Athos’ spine and he can feel the last of it sparking along his fingers and toes. Porthos’ eyes. He knows those eyes. He's never seen them before in his life, never even dreamed of them, he’s sure of it, but he knows them as sure as he knows his own.

Porthos is staring right back, his mouth is hanging slightly open and his breathing fast and shallow.

“Goodness, Porthos, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Louis says. “Donnan, is your partner in the habit of being haunted during his meals?” He laughs a little and that noise somehow jerks Athos out of the trance he’s been in.

“Excuse me, Porthos?” Athos asks. “Have we met somewhere before?"

“No,” Porthos says. “I’m sure we haven’t."

That’s all Athos needs to know. Whatever this is, Porthos is feeling it, too. Athos jerks his head around as Louis gives a friendly wave to the reporters on the street outside the restaurant and Athos remembers why they’re there. “Sir, if everyone is finished?"

Louis nods. “Oh, of course.” He pays the bill, and the four of them walk outside. The reporter that Athos had contacted earlier in the day steps forward.

Just at that second, Porthos snags Athos by the sleeve of his shirt. “I know you. How do I know you?"

Athos needs to be paying attention, needs to make sure this goes off without a hitch, he needs to not be trying to answer Porthos’ question for himself as well. “Not now,” he hisses and pulls his sleeve back. Porthos’ look says they’re not finished with this conversation yet.

“Louis!” the reporter calls out. “Is this an apology?"

Louis smiles that polished public smile Athos likes to see and says, “Yes. Absolutely. I behaved abominably last night. I was tired and had too much to drink, and this has been a valuable lesson in watching my gin and tonics and my tongue. The men and women of the police force are devoted and hard-working, and they deserve nothing but my utmost respect, and they have it. Lunch is the least I could do to show them how sorry I am for how I acted.” More questions come flooding to him, but Louis just smiles and shakes Porthos and Donnan’s hands again before getting into his car and waving as the driver pulls away from the curb.

Athos sighs heavily. Thank fuck that’s over, he thinks, and heads back into the restaurant. He hopes Porthos is following him.

Porthos catches up to Athos in the hallway outside the restrooms. He’s standing in front of Athos, staring at him. Athos’ back is to the wall, and his eyes are wide. “I don’t know,” Athos says. “I don’t know but it’s there. Something. I don’t—“

While Athos has been talking, Porthos has been moving slightly closer. He’s near enough to touch now, near enough to smell Athos’ aftershave and close his eyes at how it smells like home. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” Porthos says. “I barely know your name, and we’ve never met but I need to kiss you like I need air. So if you don’t want this, say so now.”

Athos doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move a muscle, and that’s all Porthos needs. He ducks his head and presses his mouth to Athos’, sighing out as their lips meet. Athos makes a noise of helpess adoration in the back of his throat and fists his hands in Porthos’ shirt. Their mouths have fallen open, their breath mingling, so when Athos gasps it’s Porthos’ air he steals.

The memories come in like a flood and lightning and thunder all at once. This kiss, here and now, mixes with all the kisses before. Porthos in armor kissing Athos in chainmail. Athos laid out in the grass under a tree, straw boater hat set to the side and Porthos curled over him, haloed by the sun and pressing kisses to his nose. Weaving through them, kissing them both in every memory, is a third man. Except sometimes, like when the memory shows the three of them in a canvas tent in the middle of a snowy night, they are barely more than boys. But always there are kisses, thousands of kisses washing through Athos, washing over Porthos, taking their breath away.

Porthos tears his mouth away, resting his forehead against Athos’ as the gasps and tries to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he smiles, one side of his mouth curling up and his eyes dancing.

“Hey, you,” Porthos says.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Athos says.

They tilt their heads and kiss again, letting the kisses of every life before settle over them like a cloak of memories.

 

 

Hundreds of miles away, utterly unknown to either of the men currently kissing in that hallway, Aramis sees all those kisses as well. He’s sitting at his desk, tapping his pencil on his keyboard and staring out the window and having the most vivid daydream. There’s the stink of a battlefield and the blue-eyed man kissing his face, his mouth, saying over and over, “We have you. We’re here. We wouldn’t leave you. We love you.” Aramis can see the one with the irresistible curls with his booted feet up on a desk, badge glinting on his chest as he kisses the blue-eyed one breathless then flicking his eyes to Aramis and saying, “Hey, handsome."

Aramis tunes the world out for what seems like half an hour and just lets these gorgeous fantasies spin over and around him before sighing and getting back to work.

 

 

Neither Athos nor Porthos sees the photographer who’s followed them into the hallway until it’s too late. Porthos thinks about chasing him down but by the time he makes up his mind the guy has already posted the video to YouTube and his composing the headline in his head. “Leave him,” Athos says. “I like the idea of having that moment documented. I wish it weren’t out there for everyone to see, but no one is ever going to know what was happening. Not like us.”

“What if it gets back to Louis?” Porthos asks.

“If I’m lucky, he’ll fire me. Let someone else bail him out.” Athos laughs. “I’d have left months ago, but I want to take my assistant with me, and he won’t leave until he gets the guts up to ask out Louis’ PA."

Porthos chuckles and rolls his forehead against Athos’, dragging their noses together and kissing him again. “Come home with me,” he says. “I need to get to know you again."

“Yes. Yes,” Athos says. “I need to find out if you still have that—“

“Now,” Porthos says, taking Athos by the hand and leading him out the front of the restaurant and into his car.

The video gets an obscene number of hits for one featuring no one famous at all and not a single cat. Every time it’s reported in any outlet the headline says something about Louis’ fixer using favors to get Louis out of trouble with the cops. Athos is sure this is the end for him as Head of Corporate Security, but it backfires horribly. With this video out, everyone seems to have forgotten Louis’ original problem entirely. Instead of the firing Athos is sure is coming his way, he gets a raise, and Porthos listens to him grumble for hours before kissing the words out of his mouth and taking him to bed.

He wears the boots.

 

 

Aramis checks his email the next morning to see a note from his sister with the subject line “It could have been worse…” He opens the message and in the body of the note, Antonia has written, “At least when you came out it wasn’t like this.” There’s a link to a video.

The first thing that catches Aramis’ eye is the striking uniform on one of the men, the second is that they’re locked in a deep embrace, their arms clutching each other close. When the uniformed man pulls his mouth away Aramis sees the face of the other man and loses all feeling in his legs.

It’s the man from his daydream, the blue-eyed one who kissed his face on the battlefield, the same one who’d handed him an old-fashioned pistol in another daydream and kissed him, saying, “I love you, I’ll see you back here when this is over.”

The other man, the one in the uniform, is the one who’d kissed the blue-eyed man in that dusty office. He’s the same one who’d jumped over the railing of a ship, earring flashing in his ear as he landed beside Aramis on the dock and said, “Captain says we have three days, let’s make the most of them,” then kissed him right there in front of God and everyone.

Aramis stares at the video, watching it on a loop for nearly five minutes before he says, “Fuck.”

The description says who they are, where they are, and Aramis barely breaths as he sends an email to his boss and starts looking at plane tickets. He can’t get leave for a week but when he does, Aramis heads straight for them. He has no idea what he’ll do when he gets to the city, how he’ll find them, but he knows this story can’t end with the two of them kissing for the rest of their lives while Aramis stays here and wastes away without them.

 

  
Athos has a meeting with a musician who has come into town to do some work with Louis. They sit in the singer’s hotel room and talk about the plans for the week, how he’ll be escorted back and forth to the studio and how Athos’ team will augment his own personal security. It’s a long meeting, but a productive one and when it’s over, Athos meets Porthos in the lobby bar.

They kiss, it seems that now they are back with each other they will never grow tired of kissing, and then order drinks and talk about their days. Before long the talk turns to _him_ , the third, their missing piece. Porthos thinks they should go barreling out and try to find him; Athos wants to work smarter, not harder. Athos wonders if it’s worth looking through motor vehicle registration records. They know his first name, they can remember whispering it to him as they kissed him and told him how much they loved him, it shouldn’t be hard to find him.

They’re in the midst of deciding in which state to start the search when they hear a laugh from the reception desk. Both of their heads jerk up, they know that laugh. Porthos takes off across the lobby, and Athos barely has time to throw some cash on the bar to cover their tab and a tip before tearing after him.

When he’s barely ten feet away from the reception desk, Porthos says, “Aramis,” and the young man turns around.

His mouth gapes and they’re in front of him in a heartbeat. Aramis smiles, wide and open.

“Oh,” he says. “It’s you."

Porthos smiles at him, and Athos can feel this great warmth settle over his heart.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Aramis says.

“We know,” Athos says. “We’ve been looking for you, too.” He takes Aramis’ chin in his fingers, tilting it up and kissing him, soft at first, then deep and with a quiet moan. When Athos pulls away, Aramis stands there blinking, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

Taking Aramis’ head in his hands, Porthos kisses each eyelid, each cheek, and then his lips, his mouth. Aramis sighs into the kiss and Athos steps up behind Aramis and kisses him in the curve of his neck.

Porthos smiles down at them both and says, “Found you."

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Video of that kiss makes it to the internet, too. After Louis' shenanigans and the kiss in the restaurant the week before, everyone knows who Athos is. Now here he is making out with another guy right in front of the guy he was making out with las week and it's being filmed by at least four people. The supercut Aramis' sister makes of all the various angles is three minutes long.)
> 
> Other lifetimes to follow.


End file.
